


On the Risks of Solicited Polaroids

by Avelera



Series: Body Positivity Newmann Fics [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Chubby Newton Geiszler, Letters, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 22:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18678268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelera/pseuds/Avelera
Summary: Hermann made the mistake of asking Newton for a photo of himself in his last letter, only to discover to his profound horror that Newt is not only handsome butideal.Part of a series featuring mutual body appreciation.





	On the Risks of Solicited Polaroids

**Author's Note:**

> _Anonymous asked: Can u imagine Hermann finally meeting Newton and being utterly overwhelmed at how pretty he is in person. Newton mentioned in the letters that he had a rockstar body and Hermann is STUNNED because he's never really had a type but now he does and it's Newton's strong arms and perky butt and chubby cheeks._
> 
>  
> 
> So I went a little earlier than the first meeting because I didn’t want to overshadow it too much with the whole “hated each other on sight” thing if I went with canon, so here’s the first time Hermann saw Newt’s photo. (And… wow this got really personal in a way, what was it Lin said that one time about feeling naked in front of an audience when you write from personal experience? Welp, uh, I hope you enjoy!)
> 
> Part of an ongoing series of fics focused on "chubby Newt" with a focus on body positivity.

Hermann was in a great deal of trouble.

It was one thing to engage in an epistolic meeting of the minds with a fellow academic, sending letters back and forth across the Atlantic as they theorized about the nature and origin of the Kaiju attacking their world. It was another thing to be  _stimulated_  by said conversation with said fellow academic, as Hermann found in this “Dr. Newton Geiszler” a kindred spirit, a fellow child prodigy, and the sort of companionship he’d only dreamt of in the real world.

And, finally, it was quite another  _entirely_  to finally get that long-anticipated polaroid in the mail from said colleague, and in so doing to realize just how well and truly  _fucked_  Hermann was. 

Newton was  _attractive_.

More than attractive, he was in fact  _ideal._  Hermann tugged at his tightly buttoned collar as his face grew hot. He quickly ran to his room and locked himself in, then took a seat on the edge of the bed before he dared take a second look. 

He wasn’t  _gaping_  at Newton’s photo, merely… reassessing. Perhaps he had made some mistake when he opened the latest letter and Newton had enclosed a photo of someone else. Someone who was, frankly,  _perfect_  in a way that made Hermann’s mouth go dry and his heart stutter.

But no, the closer he looked, the fewer the signs that this photo could be in any way faked. Newt was flashing the three fingers they’d promise to hold up in their photos to ensure they weren’t stock photos or out-of-date. His other hand had the index and pinky fingers held up like a  _rockstar_. He wore a black shirt with a name emblazoned on it that was presumably a band that Hermann didn’t recognize, and his jeans were torn at the knees.

Hermann took a deep breath and tried to refocus on the qualitative, tried to calm himself down by going over the cold facts. He looked dispassionately at the photo again. Item 1: green eyes, shading to hazel and hidden behind chunky black-rimmed glasses. Item 2: messy brown hair that looked as if it had been caught in a breeze and that begged for the touch of his fingers… Hermann shook his head and furrowed his brow to banish the intrusive thought. Item 3: a trace of stubble on his jaw that would be rough across his lips when he kissed it. Item 4: ….

Hermann swallowed and squirmed as heat gathered lower in his body. Had Newton been perfectly chiseled, hardened with muscle and with all the marks of some  _conventionally attractive_  model, Hermann’s discomfort would have overridden any desire. It was simply so obvious that a perfect specimen of masculinity would have no interest in a spindly, awkward  _geek_  like himself that he had long ago learned to filter out even the desire for such a person. They would never be trustworthy, after all, with how easily they could find another more  _suited_ to their physical perfection, even if such an Adonis had ever taken interest in Hermann. He had known he was not ideal and so it was better to pursue others who were not and somewhere along the way, the imperfect had become… perfect to him.

Perhaps it was in part because his father had always advocated exercise and strict diet. “Advocate” was perhaps too kind a word. Hermann still cringed at the memory of how his father had scolded Bastien for going over the “ideal” weight while still a child, as if were a moral failing. He had pointed out Hermann as an example to follow, though Hermann knew it was only luck that his metabolism ran so fast, and on the flip side he’d never be able to put on muscle or bulk up like other men, his body was simply not built that way. 

But as a lingering side effect, the idea of being… soft, of living unselfconsciously in one’s own body had taken on a desirability, a sting of the forbidden, that was intoxicating. He’d known for some time that his tastes ran to more generous bodies. It was almost a good thing his father already disapproved of the idea of Hermann’s sexuality too much for Hermann to bring a man home (the idea, as he still did not know the reality, as he’d yet to get up the courage to come out to Lars, even at 26. Hermann had gritted his teeth through many inquiries into his “sparse” love life). But even if he were to do so, he would never subject a lover to the criticism from his father that would be inevitably spoken behind such a man’s back, and only behind his back if Hermann were so lucky.

To return to the matter at hand, Newton was… perfect. Even with a black t-shirt, there was no disguising his belly’s pudge. His arms were rounded and strong, his cheeks soft in a way that made Hermann want to press his lips to them, devour them. The heat in Hermann’s loins flared and he shifted in discomfort as he trousers grew too tight.

Oh, this was terrible. Not just terrible but  _disastrous_. How was he to carry on their correspondence now when all he wanted to do was beg Newton to visit so Hermann could press him down to his bed and thoroughly ravish him? His damned body was running away with his mind, giving it  _ideas_  which were not even  _close_  to appropriate.

Newton was his friend. Newton was perhaps the most important friend Hermann ever had if he were honest with himself. The thought of losing that friendship all because of his body’s  _mindless, base_  desire was more painful than he could bear.

He needed to put the photo away. He needed to put Newton out of his mind, at least his appearance, and go back to thinking of him as the warm and enthusiastic voice on the other side of the letters, formless and faceless. He needed to take a  _very_  cold shower and then think of how to respond to Newton’s letters (his brilliant, lovely letters that felt like coming  _home_ , that made him feel truly  _understood_ ).

And he would do those things, all of them.

But first, he had a matter to attend to that would not go away. And if he indulged himself this one time, no one would know, he thought as his hands skirted down to the button of his trousers.


End file.
